The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen) novel Chapter 1607

"Thalassa, you could've just admitted it," Richard Draven said, initially eager to stick around for the drama until Lysander's icy glare hit him.

Rubbing his nose, he added, "Uh, I've got things to handle back at my antique store. Take it easy, Lysander."

No sooner had he spoken than Lysander grabbed a fork from the dining table and hurled it his way.

Luckily for Richard, he was quick on his feet; otherwise, he'd have been hit.

Getting involved in Lysander's personal drama was like playing with fire, and Richard knew it too well. But then again, Lysander's drama was the kind everyone secretly wanted a piece of, given how rare it was.

Thalassa sat there, head bowed, biting her lower lip, her hands on her lap twisted in nervous tension, bearing the weight of Lysander's piercing gaze as if it was tearing her apart. Moments before, she was passionately defending herself, but now, faced with a circular pendant and an unexpected addition of twenty thousand dollars to her account, she was at a loss for words.

Lysander's oppressive gaze then shifted to Fitch, who was waiting on the sidelines: "Take it away!"

Fitch cautiously approached, picked up the circular pendant with both hands, and headed to the backyard, his back drenched in sweat. He had been pondering over how to investigate the theft of the circular pendant, but in no time, the truth had come to light. The thief was none other than the woman Lysander had brought home! It was beyond belief.

After Fitch left, only Lysander and Thalassa remained by the dining table. The air around Thalassa felt oppressively thick, a sharp, chilling gaze drilling into her, sending shivers down her spine.

Lysander's tall figure approached, casting a shadow over her, enveloping her entirely. Panicked, Thalassa tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. She shrank back, eyeing his looming, masculine presence warily.

Lysander leaned in, his fingers gently grazing her chin, his face cold and menacing. "I told you, as long as you're mine, you could have anything. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask. Why sneak around?" His voice was low and angry, his breath hot on her face. The danger in his voice made Thalassa's heart tremble.

Under the immense pressure, Thalassa attempted to explain, "It's not what you think..."

"Then what is it?" Lysander's sharp gaze was penetrating and ice-cold, bearing down on her. Thalassa felt like she was suffocating. His overwhelming presence, combined with his powerful masculinity, enveloped her. Every pore of Thalassa's being was saturated with tension.